Epic among the Stars, Part I: First Contact
by GalacticaCAG
Summary: My first fanfiction. Rated Teen for safety as some choice language may be used and contents include military violence. Star Wars/Battlestar Galactica Xover. Both author-created and official characters are used. The Intro is important to read. R&R, please!
1. Introduction

**Epic among the Stars, Part I: First Contact**

_Author's Note:__ First of all, let me say that I own neither the Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars universe, nor any of their affiliated titles and characters… no matter how much I wish I did. However, I have created certain characters of my own for the purposes of my story and I hope that these will soon become quite clear as the story progresses. This is my first posted fanfic and I hope you all enjoy it. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome and appreciated. _

**Introduction**

After the Human Holocaust at the hands of the Cylons during the Second Cylon War, Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica _led some fifty thousand survivors aboard a rag-tag fleet of ships from their ravaged home worlds and into uncharted space. Their destination: Earth and the lost Thirteenth Tribe of Kobal. After four long years of flight through the cosmos, the last vestiges of Colonial humanity reached its destination.

The Fleet found Earth soon after it had entered its Space Age and had begun to develop effective technology that allowed them to begin colonizing outlying solar systems. With the Cylons still searching for the Colonials, however, Adama spent the subsequent decade preparing Earth to defend itself from this threat. Under his watchful eye, Earth developed and advanced at an astounding rate. When the Cylons finally did locate their enemies, their assault fleet was met by an armada of Battlestars and was virtually annihilated in a pitched battle over the colony world of New Acropolis. With the Cylons reeling, Adama orchestrated a brilliant campaign to retake the Twelve Colonies. After five years, the Colonial banner was raised over Caprica City, the former Colonial capitol. After securing the surrounding systems, a Peace Accord was signed and the Third Cylon War was declared over.

As colonization continued, the Twelve Worlds were reclaimed for human habitation. Soon, the planets were bustling metropolises once more, though the government seat of the new Colonial Federation remained on Earth. Determined not to make the same mistakes that had been made during the Second Cylon War, the Federation maintained a powerful fleet to keep the Cylons in check. Twenty-five years after the Holocaust, Fleet Command (FleetCOM) routinely patrols the Federation's borders, ever vigilant to the threats that lie beyond…

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_I know its short, but I hope I have piqued your interest. The story itself will begin in the next chapter. Comments or questions regarding the universe I've attempted to create?_


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own either the Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars universe. **

**Chapter One**

**Battlestar **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124. Routine Patrol, Aegis Sector.**

Senior Commander Benjamin Stratis briskly strode through the hatch into the Battlestar _Spartan_'s bustling CIC, idly leafing through the most recent communiqué from Concordia Outer Systems Fleet Headquarters. It contained nothing of major importance to the _Spartan_ or her crew, as the _Terra_-Class vessel was on a routine patrol in the Jade System and all was quiet. The commander reached the central Dradis console and set the papers aside before turning to his second officer, "Report, Mr. Davids?"

Following textbook protocol to the letter, the Major reported, "Dradis clear, sir. Ship stands at Condition three and I have nothing irregular to report."

"Thank you, Major," Ben replied in turn. "I have the Con. Carry on and, uh… try to loosen up a bit, huh?" Davids shifted a bit, uncomfortably, at this last. "God, Hal…do we have to get you drunk or something?"

The atmosphere lightened as Davids offered a salute, which Ben returned, "No, sir. I don't imagine that will be necessary."

"Then hit the rack, Major." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "Or maybe the Officer's Club?"

"Yes, sir," he said evenly. Then, matching his commander's low tone, he continued, "Perhaps I will take your… _advice_." He turned and left CIC, his demeanor a bit more relaxed than before.

Stratis watched the hatch close, gently chuckling and shaking his head at the officer's reaction. Hal was a good officer, he reflected, even if he was a little too "by- the-book." He saw a bit of himself in the young man. Ben wasn't sure where he got off calling Davids "young," though; at twenty-one, Davids was only seven years younger than himself and well on the way to a command of his own.

Ben was one of the youngest commanders in the Fleet, having achieved his rank through several Fleet actions against various enemies. With him in the ranks rose his best friend and Executive Officer, Emily Clark. They had met in Flight School and together had faced mutineers, rebels, terrorists, and even marauding Cylons as they rose from lieutenants flying Vipers off the Battlestar _Champion _to commanding their own ship. In his career he had also become acquainted with the Admiralty, including Admiral Clarence T. Hill, his superior at Concordia Fleet Headquarters.

Pulling away from his reminiscence, he called an order to his communications officer, "Specialist Prince, please prepare a message to Concordia. Standard encryption."

The officer approached, clipboard in hand. "Ready, commander," she stated.

Ben chose his words, "Message begins: 'Admiral Hill: _Spartan_ Actual reports all clear in the Jade System. Will be returning to Concordia for re-supply and debrief at the conclusion of our sweep.' Message ends," he glanced at his officer, "Got that?"

"Got it, sir," she affirmed, finishing his dictation.

"Thank you." She returned to her station to transmit the message and Ben turned his gaze to the rest of his CIC crew, "Spool up the FTL, and let's go home," he announced. "After three months of patrol, I think we could all use a few days liberty." A scattered cheer met his order and Stratis hid a grin: It was amazing what the promise of a few days furlough could do for morale. "Lieutenant Norton," he called, "Please plot an FTL jump back to Concordia." He was turning back to the central console when a shout rose from the Dradis officer that stopped everyone in the CIC in their tracks:

"Dradis contact!"

* * *

**GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_**. Exploration mission, Unknown Regions.**

Jacen Solo strode down the relatively un-crowded corridor towards the frigate's Forward Observation Blister. Most of the crew was too occupied to sit and watch the streaming stars of hyperspace, as the ship would soon be dropping back into realspace and many had duties to attend to. As a Jedi Envoy, Jacen bore no such mundane responsibilities. Instead he was one of three Jedi Knights responsible for initiating diplomatic contact with discovered sentients and spearheading the defense of the ship and its crew if they fell under attack. He leaned back into the comfortable form-chair in the Observation Lounge, staring out at the void that was space. Thus far, their mission into the Unknown Region had not borne fruit.

But, Jacen recalled, the success or failure of the _Journeyman _mission was not the true reason he had joined the expedition eight months previously: Jacen had become immersed in the Dark Side and had lost himself in it. In his desire to do good, he fell under the sway of the Sith Master Lumiya. Under her influence, he had committed acts that he was certain he would never forgive himself for so long as he drew breath. All his deeds had culminated in the death of innocents and that of a fellow Jedi: by his own hand. It had taken the combined effort of those who knew him to call him back to the light.

Jacen had turned on his Master and killed her in a fierce lightsaber duel. He had then set himself at the mercy of the Jedi Council. At length, they decided to allow him to atone for his crimes and had welcomed him back into the Order. Despite the Council's decision, many Jedi still distrusted him, believing that had been forgiven because he was the Grand Master's nephew. Thus he found himself feeling alone among his own people, though he remained determined to put his sordid past behind him. He had requested a place with the _Journeyman _expedition for its near-solitude, peace, and the chance to prove himself to his suspicious and distrustful comrades.

The blurred stars above him shortened and swiftly turned into the familiar pinpricks of light as the ship reverted to sub-light speed. Immediately, Jacen sensed heightened emotions from the bridge crew, and deduced that something was amiss even before the klaxons began to blare. A voice Jacen recognized as the first mate's came over the PA system, "Attention! All hands prepare for possible action. All pilots to craft!"

Jacen stood just as the door swished open and a familiar blonde head appeared in the doorway. "That's our cue, Jacen!" Tahiri called over the alarms.

"What's going on?" Jacen asked as he fell in beside her.

Before she could open her mouth to reply, the captain came over the intercom and the two Jedi paused to listen, "This is the Captain. Moments ago, as we exited hyperspace, our sensors picked up a large vessel leaving the orbit of the third planet in the system. The vessel appears to be a warship and we have not been able to make contact as yet. Prepare for possible action; we do not know how this vessel will respond to our appearance. Thank you," the PA cut off.

Tahiri set off at a fast pace to where the corridor diverged. "I'll head up to the bridge and see what I can do," she told him. "You should head down to the fighter bay."

Jacen nodded his assent, "May the Force be with you, Tahiri."

"And you."

* * *

_Well, there you have it: Chapter One. I hope everyone likes it. The first chapters were the hardest for me to write and I admit, I was more pleased with later chapters. This is my first story and I'm always looking for advice, critiques, etc… Let me know what I can improve on! Reviews (especially good ones!) and questions are welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

_-The CAG_


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Two**

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124.**

"Report!" barked Stratis as he spun on his heel to face the Dradis officer.

The crewman calmly translated the information filling his screen, "One ship, moderate in size, perhaps light-capitol class." He looked up, "Doesn't match any known Cylon configuration."

The commander frowned; if the vessel's class was unknown, they had no idea of its capabilities. That could mean trouble. Taking action, he snapped out his orders, "Action stations! Set Condition one! I want all Vipers manned, but keep 'em in the tubes!" Without pause he turned about to Specialist Prince's communications station, "Jamie, I want you to broadcast a hostile challenge and demand for ID. Send it in the clear on all bands."

"Right, sir," she responded before activating the wireless. "This is the Battlestar _Spartan_ to unidentified vessel. Stop engines immediately and identify yourself or you will be fired on." There was a pause, "No response, Commander."

"Continue to broadcast in a continuous cycle." He was on his way back to the CIC's central console when the hatch swung open, admitting his XO.

The colonel answered the ringing telephone, "Combat, Clark." She was silent, listening, "Confirmed." She hung up the phone and turned to Ben. "All decks report ready for action," she said tersely.

"Thanks, Em. Who's flying the CAP?" he queried, as he briefly glanced at the paper he'd just been handed. He quickly set it aside for later, not deeming it important at the moment.

She accessed the command terminal, absently brushing her long, brown, hair behind her ear, "Looks like…three Vipers and a Raptor off our port bow, headed up by Lieutenant Gamble."

"Sir!" a voice came from the back of the CIC. "The Unknown is still approaching and is nearing extreme weapons range!"

Acting on this intelligence, he ordered Prince to get Wraith on the wireless. He picked up hand set and brought it swiftly to his ear, "Wraith, this is Actual. The large bogey is still approaching and hasn't responded to our hails. I want you to take the CAP and fire a burst acrossed their bow."

"Roger, Actual," the pilot affirmed.

Stratis followed the maneuver on Dradis. He presently saw the unknown ship slow to a halt. "Good job, Wraith," he radioed. "Have your Raptor attempt to make contact using blink code."

"Wilco,_ Spartan._ Wraith out," he signed off.

Ben brought his gaze to rest on the Dradis screen for a long moment before turning to the XO, "Em, I want a Marine boarding party in an assault shuttle in five minutes."

**

* * *

****GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_**, Unknown Space.**

Tahiri burst onto the bridge just in time to see a quartet of unfamiliar fighters fly acrossed the frigate's bow, the lead firing a burst of red-traced ammunition just ahead of the lumbering vessel.

The ship's captain, Arthur Shaw, threw up a hand, "All engines, full stop!"

Moments later, the frigate crept to a halt and the largest of the four craft swung in, facing the bridge. A spotlight mounted beneath the crew cabin began to flash in a repetitive pattern, instantly recognizable as a code. Tahiri looked to the captain, then the crew, "It looks like a blink code, but not one I'm familiar with…" She trailed off thoughtfully.

The captain picked up her thread, "They're trying to make contact with us." He looked to the bridge crew, "Does anyone recognize it?" The crew, in turn, traded looks among themselves until a voice hesitantly spoke up from the back.

The voice was that of a Mon Calamari tech. "That resembles an old Mon Calamari blink code from many years ago," he wheezed, his large, round eyes fixed upon the ship just outside the view port. "I cannot decipher it, but I am sure it is in the ship's databanks," this last he directed to his captain.

Shaw nodded to the Mon Cal before spinning his chair to face the mostly still-silent and unmoving bridge crew. "Well, get on it!" he snapped, bringing them back to their senses. "I want that message deciphered. Use your best guess if there are differences between the two codes."

Tahiri sank back into one of he chairs that flanked the captain's dais as the crew scurried about to decode the message. She focused her gaze on the support craft, still flashing its message, and its three companions that now flitted about in a clearly defensive pattern. She closed her eyes and reached out in the Force to the people aboard the ships opposite them. They felt alien to her probe, yet somehow familiar in mysterious sense. Before she could place the feeling, however, she was jolted out of her concentration as a Twi'lek officer proclaimed her success from her station.

"I've got it, sir!" she shouted as the rest of the crew fell silent around her. "Accounting for the discrepancies between the two codes, it reads: 'Shift your wireless to broadcast in the clear,'" She frowned at the flimsiplast in her hand, "At least, that's what I _think _it means. The code we've got is pretty old."

Shaw nodded to her before swiveling to face the Comm officer, "You heard the message. Cancel all encryption and pipe it through the speakers. Let's see what they have to say."

Tahiri immediately spied contingency with this plan: What if those people didn't speak in an intelligible language?

The Jedi was about to voice her concerns when the Comm officer hit the last key in his sequence of commands. To her great surprise and relief, a crisp and professional female voice was heard, speaking in perfectly intelligible Basic:

"-ed upon. Repeat. This is the Battlestar _Spartan_ to unidentified vessel. Stop engines immediately and identify yourself or you will be fired upon. Repeat…" the message continued in its loop.

Tahiri joined in the immense shock exhibited by the crew. _How the Sith did they know Basic?_, she wondered. She was the first among the crew to recover and she looked to Shaw. "Captain…?" she prompted.

He looked at her before clearing his head and returning to reality. He turned to the Comm station and the human seated there, "Mr. Tark, patch me through." The man didn't respond. "Tark, can you hear me?"

The man blinked at the sound of his name, "Uh, yes, sir." He hit a few keys, "You're on, skipper."

Shaw took a moment to organize his thoughts before speaking up, "This is Captain Arthur Shaw of the GFFA exploration frigate _Journeyman_ to the ship naming itself the…" He took a brief moment to confirm the name, "Battlestar _Spartan_. Please respond." All those present held their breath as they awaited a response.

Seconds later an authoritative male voice crackled over the speakers, "This is _Spartan_ commanding officer. You are infringing of Colonial Federation space. State your business and clarify your intentions." The voice was calm and professional, but with an unmistakable edge to it.

Shaw matched the man's tone, "We are an exploration vessel from the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. We were sent out here into what we know as the 'Unknown Regions' to map this region of the galaxy and make contact with new civilizations. Up to this point we have had little success." Shaw went on, more energetically now; they had been in deep space for eight months in anticipation of this very moment, "This event is monumental: The discovery of a new and technologically advanced civilization! And never in our most enthusiastic projections did we predict that we would speak the same language!"

The other man didn't share Shaw's excitement. When he spoke again, his tone was unchanged, "I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Captain, but I am in quite a predicament now." The voice paused before continuing, "We know nothing of your 'Galactic Federation' and we have enemies that would go to any lengths to infiltrate the Federation. We must ensure you are not a threat to our people."

Shaw, clearly trying to sooth his opposite's suspicions, responded, "I assure you that we come in peace, Commander."

Before he could continue,however, the other broke in, "In light of the situation, your allegation is simply not enough. We must ascertain your intentions for ourselves: I am exercising my authority under Colonial Fleet regulations, Section seven-point-six. Prepare to be boarded."

**

* * *

****CFS **_**Spartan, **_**BSS-124.**

"What!" Shaw's voice exploded through the receiver and Stratis unconsciously jerked it away from his ear as Shaw voiced his protest. "We are an exploration vessel from a sovereign galactic government! We entered this system without any knowledge that it was occupied and have made no move to threaten you in any way!"

Stratis sighed and composed his thoughts before cutting into he captain's outraged tirade. He understood where Shaw was coming from; in his place he would be livid as well, but he had his duty. "Calm down, captain," he interjected smoothly and calmly. "Try to put yourself in my position: A strange vessel has jumped into protected territory, claiming to be representatives of a government _we _do not even know exists, and therefore I cannot verify your claims. I hope you can understand why that may seem suspicious." Shaw made a sound as if he was going to interrupt, but Stratis pressed on, undaunted, "No matter what my personal beliefs on the subject are, I am a Fleet officer. I must follow protocol in this circumstance, and thus can't allow you to continue further or return to where you came from without meeting the demands of regulation."

Despite his diplomatic attempt to explain his mandate, Shaw remained adamant. "We are a peaceful vessel from a sovereign government. You have no right," he declared.

Ben tried once more, "All we need is to conduct a cursory search of your computer banks, Captain. I beg you-I don't want this encounter to come to bloodshed, but my hands are tied."

Shaw sounded calmer, but no less determined, "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't allow it. There are secure and top secret files in our memory banks…we will defend ourselves if we must." The conversation was clearly over and the connection was broken.

Before Ben could puzzle out how to proceed, the Dradis beeped to indicate the appearance of new contacts. He peered at the screen as Emily, at his side, calmly announced, "We have incoming. _Journeyman_ has launched two squadrons of fighters from a launch bay in the ship's midsection. Their engines have come on-line."

His friend's quiet announcement jolted Ben into action, "Get the CAP the frak outta there! Get my planes in the air!" The CIC staff jumped to carry out his orders and _Spartan_'s CO resumed studying the Dradis screen as the Vipers launched to intercept the bandits currently closing on his ship. He puzzled over what Shaw's strategy was. Then it hit him. "Shaw can't jump away…we're both too near the planet's gravity well. He going to try and fight his way past us to get out," he reasoned softly to himself. The officer knew his duty: To stop that ship, by whatever means necessary.

"Orders, Commander?" Emily questioned, overhearing his quiet deduction.

Ben turned to appraise her, "Turn the main batteries on that ship and link to salvo fire. They're not getting past us."

_

* * *

__Author's Note:__ A little bit of a cliff-hanger there. Will they start shooting at each other and bring the Colonial Federation and the GFFA to war? Or will things somehow work out? You'll have to keep reading to find out! __Furthermore, I apologize: I meant to post two chapters today, but this one took several hours to type and edit. On the other hand, this chapter is longer than yesterday's. I plan to post chapter three tomorrow._

_I want to thank my three reviewers for the wonderful comments and hope I have not disappointed with this chapter. All reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

_-The CAG _


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Three**

**Vessel Engagement Zone- GFFA Squadrons.**

Jacen Solo dialed up the inertial compensators as he accelerated from the launch bay into the vacuum, the other eleven pilots arrayed in formation behind him, "All right Venture squadron, form up with Blade. Hold your fire unless fired upon, acknowledge?"

A series of comm clicks greeted his statement as his Stealth-X cleared the bow. "Target carrier is dead ahead. Set S-foils in attack position, full power to your forward shields," he ordered as his astromech bleeped a warning at him.

Simultaneously, one of his pilots came over his comm set, "Solo, Kace. I got a lot more contacts comin' out of the carrier. I count…sixty. They got us outgunned nearly three-to-one!" The young pilot sounded almost frantic.

"Steady, Kace," Jacen returned, trying to put all the calm into his voice that he didn't feel. "Stick to your wing mate and don't panic-we've got a job to do out here. Just hold your fire until we get orders."

The comm came to life again, "Venture leader, this is Blade One."

Jacen recognized the voice of the expedition's third Jedi, Harath Kinn, "Go ahead, Blade One."

"The bandits are pushin' in close, trying to get around my flank. There's too many of them," he went silent for a moment before bursting back on. "Sith!" he cursed. "I got one on my tail!"

Jacen eyed the onrushing mass of enemy squadrons bearing down on them, "We'll have problems of our own over here in a minute, too." Fortunately, the enemy wasn't firing. Jacen grimly watched as the strange fighters swarmed his formation, maneuvering to get into their opponent's kill-zone. He pushed his throttle to maximum as one dropped in on his tail. "Sithspit!" he hissed. _We're gonna get cut to ribbons out here!_

**Vessel Engagement Zone- Spartan Viper Squadrons.**

Captain Taylor "Grace" Grey's Mk.VIII catapulted out of its launch tube to form up with the other Vipers swarming from the _Spartan_. "Sparta squadron, on my lead!" she radioed. "Talon, Knight take the left. Hoplite, Archer hit 'em in the center." She eyed their counterparts, currently advancing upon them, "All right, you guys- this is it! Watch your backs and I'll see you all at Debrief. Good hunting!"

Registering the terse wireless chatter only vaguely, the _Spartan_ CAG focused on the fast-approaching enemy fighters, now clearly visible. She made note of their curious shape and form, reporting it to CIC.

Her attention was briefly captured by her two squadrons mixing with the enemy's right flank. "_Spartan_, the enemy is holding fire. We have reached optimum range. Do we engage?" she quieried CIC.

The reply was instantaneous, "Negative, CAG. Do not fire unless fire upon."

"Frak…" she muttered as the two formations became entangled with each other and she swung in behind the leader, struggling to remain on his tale as he tried to shake her off.

**Vessel Engagement Zone- GFFA Squadrons.**

"This is Venture leader," Jacen commed. "I've got one on my tail." "Terek," he called to his wingman. "You free?"

Jacen wasn't surprised when the response came, "Sorry, Boss…Argh! I got a pair on my tail too." He came back a moment later, "Solo, for some reason, they're holding their fire. But when that changes, most of us will be space dust in under ten seconds! This is suicide!"

Jacen tended to agree, "_Journeyman_, this is Solo. It's looking pretty bad out here- I need further instructions. When the shooting starts…I don't think we can win."

* * *

**Frigate **_**Journeyman.**_

The bridge crew was in chaos. Crew members ran about the room, shouting information and trying to regain some control over the deteriorating situation. They were mostly civilians-they weren't trained for his.

The Captain maintained calm through all the tumult, attempting to maintain order by example. He may have had most of the crew fooled, but Tahiri sensed the man was franticly weighing his options and trying to make sense of the reports he was receiving. He was and experienced captain, but the odds were too far stacked against them; that much was clear.

A voice rose from the midst of the rabble, "Skipper! Solo reports that things are really bad out there! The enemy is holding fire for now, but that could change at any time."

Shaw withdrew on himself and considered what possible reason the Colonials could have for not wiping them out. Tahiri stretched out to the commander of the warship opposite them wit the Force. Surprisingly, she found him easily, even among the thousands of other presences around him. Despite the situation, he seemed to react to the Jedi's probe unconsciously, but she managed to uncover the information she sought nevertheless.

Armed with her findings, she approached the Captain, "Captain?" He turned to regard her, "I believe his is offering you the chance to stand down. He doesn't want this to come to bloodshed."

"You're certain?"

She took only a moment to consider, "Yes."

"I hope you're right, Jedi Veila," he turned away from her to the crew pit. "Comm!" he thundered over the din, quieting them. "Get me the Commander."

Tark looked stunned. "No need, sir," he said slowly, incredulously. "He's hailing us. I'll, uh, put it on."

Mere moments later, Stratis's voice flooded from the speakers, "This is _Spartan _Actual to Captain Shaw."

"This is Shaw, we're listening," the Captain replied warily.

"I hope you see the futility of armed resistance; we have you outnumbered nearly three-to-one in space and the _Spartan_'s main batteries have you targeted. I do not want this to come to bloodshed and I implore you to see reason. To convince you of my honesty, I am willing to go this far: Recall one of you squadrons and I'll recall all but one of mine."

"What of your boarding party?" Shaw asked suspiciously.

"If I have your word of honor, I'll come aboard myself." He paused, "Do you accept these terms?"

Shaw considered this quietly and the entire bridge held its breath. Finally, "I accept." The bridge crew was clearly relieved.

"Very well," the Commander responded. "Then implement your part of the bargain and I'll be there shortly. _Spartan_, out."

The Captain turned to his first mate, "Recall Blade squadron, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Shaw nodded before rising, "Well Jedi Veila, shall we go welcome our guests?"

_

* * *

__Author's Note: __Well, crisis averted for the time being. I want to thank all my reviewers and I have enjoyed your input throughout. _

_I just wanted to bring you all up to speed on this story: I have most of it written, but it's not typed and I'm not sure how many chapters this first part will end up being. If these chapters seem a little short, that is because I try to find good spots to cut off combined with the fact that I'm not a very fast typer, so it takes me a few hours._

_Due to how long it takes me to type, I think I'll be updating once every two-or-so days unless I have the urge to do otherwise, but rest assured the story __shall__ be completed. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this particular chapter._

_All reviews, questions, and constructive criticism are welcome. Thanks for reading!_

_-The CAG_

_PS, To: darth rat. I E-mailed a reply to your review to you via your contact link, as I believe it merited an informed response. I hope you got it._


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars. **

**Chapter Four**

_**Spartan**_** Assault Shuttle Alpha**

Sergeant Kelly checked the straps and adjustments on his CO's armor vest as the members of the assembled three Marine squads did the same around them. Kelly clapped Stratis on the shoulder, "You're all set, Commander."

The Commander shifted under the vest's added weight, "Thank you, Sergeant." He turned to address the twenty-four Marines waiting to go aboard the frigate in support of the Tech team, who immediately fell silent, "All right, ladies and gentlemen, you know the mission: We're going aboard to access their computer banks, no more, no less. Our job is to protect the Tech team until they accomplish their mission. We're not anticipating any trouble, but stay alert. Theta squad will stay aboard the shuttle, just in case. Got it?"

A chorus of affirmatives rose from the ranks before the men went about final preparations, checking their ammo and weapons. Ben briefly pulled Kelly aside, "Sarge, I need you to keep order among your men. I don't doubt their abilities as Marines, but they are green and about to enter an alien environment. We don't want his to escalate into a violent incident," he explained quietly. "Understand?"

The grizzled veteran nodded, "Yes, sir. No shortage of enemies out there as it is."

"Then lets get this done," he replied as the ship shuddered, the pilot announcing a hard seal.

"All right, Marines," the Sergeant bellowed. "Let's do this! Point men, forward!"

Two Marines stepped forward to either side of the hatch and looked to Stratis. He gave the pre-arranged signal and they unsealed it. Warily, the two stepped through the airlock…

* * *

**Airlock Seven, GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

Tahiri watched as the first two boarders stepped out of the airlock; soldiers clad head-to-foot in black. The crew gawked at these two: These people not only spoke Basic, but they were human! She sensed the two soldiers surprise as well, surmising they had never encountered non-humans before. They were well disciplined, however, and outwardly showed no sign of their shock.

The first two were immediately followed by two more in a similar fashion. The four quickly arrayed themselves on either side of the hatch, their eyes combing the Captain and the crew for any sign of trouble. Cautiously, one took a step back and signaled through the door whilst calling, "All clear!" to those that were waiting behind them.

Three more stepped through the hatch: Two burly soldiers flanking a third man, this one projecting an easy air of authority. His piercing blue eyes swept the corridor, taking in the scene before him. The crew, in turn, studied him: He was dressed no different from the soldiers who guarded him save for the single, gold star set upon his shoulder and the fact that he wore no helmet. He was armed only with a pistol, currently snapped in a holster that was belted at his waist. Its presence, however, was a reminder that this was not a social rendezvous.

"I'm Commander Stratis," he introduced himself. "I have come as per our agreement to oversee the examination of your computer database. If you will be so kind as to lead the way, we can get started." His tone was polite and courteous, but he cut straight to the point.

"Of course," Shaw said smoothly, identifying himself from among the crew. "This way." He set off down the corridor, the crew closing ranks behind him and keeping their distance from the Colonials, whose numbers multiplied as they followed, more appearing through the hatch.

Tahiri, unlike her fellow crewmen, fell in beside the Colonials. The sixteen soldiers responded to her presence by closing ranks around the Commander and the small cluster of technicians, alertly watching the young Jedi. Although she couldn't see their Commander, she could feel his eyes studying her.

* * *

**Unknown Corridor, GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_**- Colonial Boarding Party**

She perplexed him. He had been shocked at the presence of aliens among their "welcoming committee," of course, but that he could understand given the circumstances. It was the woman that had him confused: She seemed so different from her comrades and he couldn't understand why. Outwardly, she appeared no different than any other human they'd seen among the ship's crew, her lack of shoes aside. Her face was a mask of calm, revealing no emotion that his practiced eyes could discern. Unlike the rest of the crew, she appeared unarmed, save for a strange, metal cylinder on her waist. She walked alongside his men, as if they were on a pleasant stroll through the park, with an air of assured confidence. Ben resolved to keep an eye on her and, judging by their stances, his Marines had clearly resolved to do the same.

The Colonial formation followed Shaw and his guards through a pair of reinforced doors into a large room containing a massive bank of computers. The frigate's captain turned to him. "Well, Commander," he said with a sweeping hand gesture and a touch of pride. "She's all yours."

Stratis waved his Tech team forward, taking in their wide-eyed and enthralled expressions. He addressed their head, "Chief, do what we came here to do."

"Yes sir," he replied, rubbing his hands together. He moved up to the computer, his team on his heels. They began to access the terminals with all the enthusiasm of children on Christmas morning. Immediately, the Marines closed protectively in around them.

As his men settled in while the techs worked, Shaw approached him; "We need to talk, Commander. Now, while you're here to listen."

"I'm listening," he said evenly.

"Not here. Not in front of the crew. Over there," he gestured to a door on his left.

What warning flags that had been raised in his head turned into klaxons, but he didn't allow them to distract him, "Fine, but only one aide apiece."

"Agreed," he and the blonde-haired woman set off for the door, Ben on their heels.

"Corporal Garret, with me," he called and the Marine fell in step with him. "Sarge, hold down the fort."

Ben heard the NCO's acknowledgement as the door slid shut behind them, leaving them in a small lounge, containing only a pair of chairs facing each other acrossed a small table. Shaw seated himself in one of the chairs and indicated Ben should do the same. As he sat down, Garret positioned himself on his right, mirroring his opposite. "What is it you have to say, Captain? I thought we both made our positions rather clear over the wireless," Ben inquired politely, but with a distinctly wary edge.

"What I want to know," Shaw began. "is what will happen to my crew when your team finishes its search?"

"That all depends on what my team turns up," he replied carefully.

Shaw pressed on, "If you destroy us, you could spark a war. You can't detain us; our government would never stand for it. It seems your options are few."

Stratis let out a brief laugh at this, "You forget, Captain, that your government doesn't even know we _exist_! Any SAR operation would be looking for the metaphorical needle in the haystack!" Ben's humor subsided, "In any case, we have no desire to escalate this situation into violence, but we will have to take action if my team finds anything…" He cast about for the right word, "_incriminating_."

"And what 'action' would that be?"

Stratis was silent a moment, "If the evidence points to you being who you say you are, you'll have the choice of either leaving the way you came or coming with us to Concordia Fleet Headquarters, where you can apply to FleetCOM for permission to continue on through Colonial space. Your choice," he shrugged. "On the other hand, if you're not who you say you are, you'll be escorted to a secure military facility for further study and observation. After that," he said apologetically. "You're Intel's responsibility."

Shaw processed this information before speaking again, "Well Commander, do you think your techs have found what they're looking for?"

Stratis consulted his old watch, "I should think so. They've never failed before."

Shaw stood and Stratis followed suit, "Then let's hear the verdict." He led them back to the door, "Shall we?"

"After you."

**GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_**'s Computer core**

As soon as the four walked through the lounge door, they were approached by the head of the Colonial tech team. He saluted the Commander, "Sir, after a thorough search of the ships data files, we found no evidence to indicate these people are anything other than what they say they are."

Although he didn't outwardly show it, Tahiri could tell the officer was relieved, "Thank you, Chief. Pack up your gear and get back to the ship. Good work."

The technicians moved to comply, but they couldn't hide the mournful looks they gave the computer they'd clearly reveled cracking into. Their guards, having less reluctance, hustled them out of the room.

Stratis and his guard were the last Colonials in the room, "Captain Shaw, please accept my sincere apologies regarding this incident. I assure you it was necessary. When you reach your decision on where to go from here, notify me over the wireless." Then, with a nod to the Captain and Tahiri, he turned on his heel and swept from the room, his escort following a step behind in his wake.

Shaw turned half-way to face Tahiri, one eye still on the door he had left through, "Jedi Veila, please gather your companions and meet me in the wardroom: We have a decision to make."

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, that's Chapter Four. I want to thank all my reviewers and would like them to know that I left responses to certain reviewers via their contact link._

_Thanks for sticking with me: I meant to update yesterday, but a disagreement with a rather sharp blade has temporarily cost me the use of one of the fingers on my left hand. It was well- wrapped in gauze, which was removed last evening. I still cannot make use of the injured finger, which slows my typing, but I managed to get this chapter done._

_Anyway, thanks for reading! As usual, reviews, questions, and comments are always welcome! _

_-The CAG_


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Five**

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124**

Colonel Emily Clark had the Con in CIC when the tech team's results came in over the wireless and she took the liberty of recalling Sparta squadron when _Journeyman_'s captain recalled his own fighters. As they touched down on the Port Flight Pod, she gave the order to secure from action stations.

Minutes later, she was informed that the Commander was on his way back and she turned to the acting XO, Hal Davids, "Major Davids, I'm going down to the Starboard Flight Pod to meet the CO. You are in command until we return."

The Major nodded curtly, "Yes ma'am, I have the Con."

She left CIC in capable hands, walking briskly through the hatch and briefly acknowledging the Marine guard's salute. Following the ship's winding corridors easily, she soon found herself descending the sharply-angled stairs to the hanger deck as the boarding mission's Assault Shuttle was brought to a halt to allow its occupants to exit.

The main boarding ramp unsealed and lowered as her feet touched the deck. Soon the Marines and techs were filing out, following no visible order. Emily noted with covert amusement that the Marines in particular showed none of the professionalism that was their trademark. The ship's Commander brought up the rear. When he spied the XO at the base of the ramp he stopped and sketched a salute, "Permission to come aboard, Colonel?"

Replying to his jesting tone in kind, "I suppose… though I rather like being in command. This ship would be mine if it weren't for you always getting in the way," she grumbled in mock-irritation.

Ben let out a sharp laugh as he stepped onto the deck, "Well you can have her," he deadpanned. "I've always had my eye on the _Themistocles_ anyway."

Emily chuckled: She knew how much Ben loved his ship. They slowly made their way back to CIC, at first in silence; he was clearly mulling over waht he had ovserved. Curious, she asked, "So, what do you think of that frigate over there?"

"Ah, she's not a bad ship, just too…_sterile_. I mean, the corridors are so spotless its unnatural. Awful lot of computers and stuff like that over there too. Could be a problem for 'em if they're unlucky enough to run into the Cylons," he analyzed.

"Fighters are pretty impressive, though. By what Captain Grey's report said, it looks like they've got more armaments than the Vipers and it even seems like they're equipped with some sort of shielding. Unfortunately, it looks like they're in the same boat as their carrier- heavily reliant on computers."

"I agree they have their flaws, but I wouldn't have wanted to face down a number of those frigates and their air wings. That could've posed more of a problem out there today."

Emily nodded in agreement as they entered CIC, "So, what now?"

Ben frowned, "That's really up to them: If they want to continue, we'll take them to Concordia. Otherwise, we escort 'em to the edge of Colonial Space and they can go back the way they came. After that, we just hope they don't come back in force."

Emily gave him a look, "I thought you said…"

Stratis merely chuckled, "Just because these people had good intentions doesn't mean the power-mongering bigwigs that sent them have the same intentions. We'll just have to be ready, just in case." Changing the subject, he pulled out his glasses to read the FTL charts spread out on the central console before them, "Give me a hand here, we have two FTL jump coordinate sets to verify by the time they reach a decision over there."

**GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_**-Main Wardroom**

Jacen walked into the wardroom still wearing his crumpled flight suit, having just come from his Stealth-X. The meeting was already underway as he crept in, coming to stand beside Tahiri, "What'd I miss?"

"Shh! Listen!"

Deciding she was too focused on what was being said to press the matter he turned his attention. The Captain was addressing them all in fine eloquence, "My friends, we are at a crossroads in our journey. Our path has taken us into an inhabited section of the galaxy and here have found a race with technology that rivals our own in many respects. They have presented us a choice: Turn back or continue our journey."

"Should we return home, perhaps we may return one day with a larger expedition, but who knows when that may be. If we go onwards, we will be on our own. We are making history here!" It was clear where the Captain stood on this issue, but he was determined to have a vote, "Well, what say you?"

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124**

Captain Shaw's voice crackled over the wireless, "Commander, we have decided that we will fulfill our mandate by continuing on with you to your base. How soon can we have jump coordinates?" Even with the comm distortion, the man sounded triumphant and eager to continue with his venture.

"Patience Captain," Ben advised. "We have jump coordinates and telemetry calculated, but we don't know if you have a different coordinate system than we do, so I'll have to send an officer over as a liaison. Besides, I can't just hand you the final coordinates; the location of Concordia is top secret, you understand. The process may take several hours."

The voice that returned was a little less eager, but still fairly animated, "I understand, Commander. We'll be standing by."

"Thank you. _Spartan_ out." The connection was terminated and Stratis gathered the jump data, "Major Davids!"

The man, currently at his station, hurried to cross the room, "Yes sir?"

Ben handed him the FTL coordinates, "Take a Raptor and four Marines over to the frigate. Coordinate with their crew and input the jump data. When you finish, contact me over the wireless so we can synchronize the jump."

"Aye sir," he replied, snapping a crisp salute before fairly bounding from CIC.

The CIC staff found some amusement in this: Their tightly-wound third officer had lost all pretenses of precision and had dashed headlong from CIC, as if the dogs of Hades were on his heels.

Though secretly amused that his reserved, spit-and-polish, officer could jump to and use all that checked energy in one action, like a human jack-in-the-box, he had to maintain some discipline, "Alright people! Commence final jump prep. We should be spooling up the FTL and jumping within the hour."

**Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

For the second time that day, black-clad Colonial soldiers marched through the exploration frigate's halls. This time, though, they were here on a peaceful mission, even if the ship's crew eyed their assault rifles warily and gave them wide berth. _So much the better_, Davids decided. _It just gets us to the bridge faster_.

Their guide, a young blonde woman whom the Marines inexplicably seemed on edge with, led them to a lift, which carried them at astounding speeds to their destination.

Davids took a brief moment to study the guide, searching for a sign of what could merit such rapt attention; she was beautiful, he noted, but the Marine's attention seemed cautious and wary, not enthralled. Though still perplexed, he had no time to consider further as the lift came to a halt.

When the doors slid open, the Major found himself in the most technologically-advanced room he had ever seen: Dozens of stations outfitted with streamlined, glowing, computer terminals occupied every inch of space. There were perhaps a dozen crewers doing the work of _Spartan's_ entire CIC staff. A man sitting in a chair set upon a raised platform, who Davids assumed was the Captain, approached him, extending his hand, "I'm Captain Shaw; welcome aboard the _Journeyman_."

"Thank you Captain," he said, shaking the proffered hand.

Shaw continued with the introductions, first indicating a uniformed man, "This is Lieutenant Tomlin, my second in command." The man nodded before Shaw drew his attention to the woman who had been their guide, "And this is Jedi Veila, one of our special envoys."

_Special envoy_. _Maybe that was why the Marines seemed so wary of her._ He covered his mental assessments by nodding to the woman respectfully. Immediately, he delved into the task at hand, "Captain, where will I be working?"

"Ah, yes. Right over here Major," he indicated an open station. "Ensign Seran will assist you in the use of our computers." As he said this, a striking young woman two terminals down turned and gave a little wave.

Davids uncharacteristically felt himself flush, but quickly shoved his emotions aside and determined to focus on the task at hand as he sat down at his terminal. Gods, he was acting like a kid with a crush. _Just focus_, he told himself.

"Anything I can help you with, Major?"

_Oh Frak…_

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124**

It took longer than Stratis anticipated for Davids to report in, "We're ready to jump on your mark, Commander."

The Major sounded strange, "Everything alright over there, Hal?"

"Ah, yes sir. Everything's fine."

Stratis shrugged and decided to put off questioning him for later, "Alright Major. Tell Shaw we jump in one minute."

"Sir." There was a click as the line disconnected.

Stratis activated the ship intercom, "All hands, make ready to jump. T-minus forty-five seconds." He watched as the jump key was inserted and his XO flashed him a thumbs up;

"FTL and Sub-light are a Go."

Ben nodded, "All hands, five…four…three…two…one. Jumping!" He replaced the phone as the room seemed to shrink. He watched the diagram that showed the Flight Pods withdrawing, streamlining the ship for the jump. With a jolt of pseudo-motion, they were gone.

**Concordia Outer-Systems Fleet Headquarters**

The _Spartan_ flashed into existence in geo-synchronous orbit above the massive Concordia military station and shipyard. The space surrounding the orbital station was bustling: The hulking masses of two Battlestars were tucked into berths, undergoing repair and re-supply while Vipers, Raptors, and shuttles criss-crossed each other's flight paths as they went about their respective tasks.

A moment after _Spartan_'s appearance, _Journeyman_ dropped out of hyperspace beside its larger counterpart. Ben was studying the Dradis screen when Jamie Prince called him from her station, "Admiral Hill on the line for you Commander."

"Patch him through." At her nod, he picked up the phone, "This is _Spartan _Actual."

"I see you've brought a friend. What's the story?" the Admiral asked without preamble.

"We were concluding our patrol in the Jade system when this ship jumped in-system. After a brief period, we boarded their vessel and searched their computer databanks. After a thorough search, we decided to bring them here," he explained, citing the highlights of the encounter; the particulars could wait for his report.

Hill's question was simple, "Why are they here?"

"They're an exploration vessel, Admiral; they wanted to continue their mission. Rest assured, the location is still secret. Ah, is this line secure, Admiral?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course, Commander."

"Sir, there is one crucial detail you need to pass on to FleetCOM: These people represent a large, _multi-species_, government."

The silence that met his statement indicated the Admiral's surprise, but when he spoke again his voice was clear and strong, "Thank you Commander, I'll pass it along and speak to their Captain shortly. Good work." The line terminated abruptly.

Ben shook his head and replaced the phone. "Well people," he said softly to his crew. "That was something for you to tell your kids about." The CIC crew was silent until he spoke again. Resuming his normal persona, he announced, "Pass the word: All non-essential personnel may return to quarters in preparation for a week's furlough."

He walked over to the helmsmen, "Take us in nice and easy for docking. Berth Twelve."

"Aye, sir," the man answered, his eyes never leaving his information screen.

Ben was watching the officer as he maneuvered the huge ship when the Dradis console bleeped that a new contact had appeared. He turned around to face the central screen, "What the hell…" he said in confusion, a sudden apprehensive feeling about the new contact rising.

His gut-feeling was proved correct when the ship lurched as ordinance exploded acrossed the hull, knocking Stratis off his feet and the lights flickered out.

_Author's Note_: _Cliff hanger here at the end. Anyway, I hope you all didn't think this chapter is too bad. I wrote this as my "they're only human" chapter. Up until this point, we haven't seen much more than military procedure, especially from the Colonials. This chapter was meant to show that they are indeed more than wind-up tin soldiers (no, those are the __Cylons__). To do this I utilized that bit between the Commander and the XO and Major David's predicament aboard _Journeyman_. I don't feel that writing this was my forte, but I felt it needed to be present. Let me know what you think or what I can improve upon, though no major flames, please._

_This was kind of an interim chapter between two crises and you may be able to guess that we will be seeing our first combat in the next couple of chapters. _

_Thanks for sticking with me through all of this. I hope this chapter was okay. I want to thank my reviewers for their interest and want to apologize for how short my chapters are. Thanks for reading, everyone!_

_-The CAG _


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Six**

**Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

Arthur Shaw was reclining in his chair on the bridge when an urgent shout rose from the crew pit, bringing him to rapt attention, "Captain! Six large vessels have just dropped out of hyperspace in attack formation." His voice rose further, with greater urgency, when he announced, "They've opened fire, incoming!"

His announcement was punctuated by a shock wave jolting the frigate, Shaw whipping his head around in time to see parts of the _Spartan _rocked by weapon's detonations, with more ordinance inbound. "Shields up!" he snapped, looking to his own ship.

His order came not a moment too soon; mere seconds as the shields flickered into being, enemy missiles and projectile impacted on the ship's particle shield, engulfing it in a torrent of flame.

"Shields down twelve percent, skipper!"

Shaw ordered his turbolaser batteries into defensive fire and launched every fighter he had. "Helm, bring us about," he instructed as the ship's bow swung to face the enemy formation, presenting less of a target, while the X-wing squadrons burst from the hold. Red lances of energy streaked from the batteries as Jedi led the squadrons into position ahead of the frigate.

In response to the squadron's maneuver, the sensor officer reported incoming fighters, "Three squadrons, at least Captain."

Shaw grimly watched through the transparisteel viewport as the two formations closed on each other. He followed the exhaust trails of two dozen proton torpedoes until they hit their targets, causing nearly two thirds of the enemy assault force to disappear instantly from the sensor board while others succumbed to turbolaser fire.

The remaining eight wing-shaped enemy fighters, oblivious to their fellow's destruction engaged the X-wing formations. Shaw watched, momentarily enthralled by fascination, as a slit ,where the cockpit should have been, opened to reveal a roving red light. For a moment, this seemed to have no effect, but then Shaw noted several bridge terminals suddenly wink off.

Shaw was at a loss as to what was happening until the Colonial officer, Davids, came running over from one side of the rapidly-darkening bridge, "Sir, those fighters just transmitted a series of viruses that are replicating themselves in your sub-processors and are overwhelming the firewalls. They're shutting down everything." His statement was compounded by the batteries ceasing fire and worse, the shields flickering out. Then, the entire ship was plunged into darkness.

_**Journeyman **_**Defense Squadrons**

Tahiri blasted the last of the enemy's fighter wave apart with a short burst. She swung about to rejoin her squadron in time to see the ion drives aboard the _Journeyman_ fail and, seconds later, the turbolasers cease fire while the shields too flickered out. She started to query her fellow pilots as to why that might be when she realized that the comm chatter was gone, replaced only by static.

The X-wings were dead in space, like the slowly drifting frigate behind them. She reached out to Jacen in the Force; he was in the same situation as the other GFFA pilots, but very much alive. As she neared the other fighters, she caught snatches of conversation over her helmet comm, punctuated by static, "...systems down…blasterbolts! Can't…going on?..."

She quickly came to a frightening conclusion; she and her Sekotan fighter were the only functional members of the entire defense force. Her ship notified her of one more item of bad news: Enemy fighters were inbound.

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124**

The lights were back on in an instant and those who had lost their footing were picking themselves up from the floor, Ben among them. "Action stations!" he thundered. "Set condition one throughout the ship!"

The XO picked up the intercom to relay the order, "Action stations, action stations. Set Condition one aboard ship and initiate combat protocols!" The ship was rocked by further detonations, their rumble almost drowned out by the blaring klaxons.

Meanwhile, Stratis was busy issuing orders, "Tactical, get those defensive batteries firing. Establish a flak screen now!" Turning about, he shouted above the din to his comm officer, "Get my planes in the air and engage those Raiders." He indicated the Dradis screen for emphasis and she nodded to him, informing him that she had transmitted the order. Stratis was swiftly rewarded by the appearance of dozens of Vipers on the Dradis screen before the CIC hatch swung open to admit a soot-covered crewman.

"Sir!" he coughed out. "The Cylon's first salvo ravaged the starboard side and knocked out internal communications. We need help to control the fire or it'll set off the ammo in the armory!"

Ben went at a run to the DC panel, his two ranking officers on his heels, "Lieutenant Norton, take command of the DC units and send teams Alpha through Gamma to give 'em a hand on the starboard side. Get that fire out, Lieutenant!"

"Yes sir!" he shouted before going off to coordinate the DC teams while Ben turned to the XO and indicated that they return to the Dradis console to take stock of the situation.

The picture it painted was grim: The Colonial defenses had been pounded and were only now mobilizing. The two other Battlestars on hand, the _Tryst_ and _Herod_ had gotten underway and were engaging the Baseships while Concordia had launched its own defensive complement. Similarly, he noted the _Journeyman_ as it put on a burst of speed and enjoyed some initial success against the enemy Raiders, before it came to an abrupt halt. It was shortly followed by all of its fighters, save one.

And that one fighter was facing two inbound squadrons accompanied by four Heavy Raiders. He moved to stand behind Jamie and practically had to shout to convey his orders, "Order Sparta squadron over in support of _Journeyman_ and dispatch four Raptors of Marines; they're about to be boarded!"

He turned his head back to the Dradis screen in time to see it dissolve in a wash of static. When it cleared, Concordia was gone.

**Sparta Squadron, Captain Taylor "Grace" Grey, commanding**

Captain Taylor Grey pulled up on her stick to avoid the rapidly expanding debris cloud left by the Raider that had just disintegrated under her guns when CIC radioed in her new orders. She called for attention over the squadron comm, "Alright Sparta squadron, we got new orders; we are to assist the _Journeyman_. Apparently they got on the wrong end of a Cylon computer virus and they have inbound raiders, acknowledge?"

The squadron's twelve members responded and were soon forming up on her wing. In the distance they could see the two Raider squadrons advancing on the disabled ship, "Alright guys, lets show these people how a Viper squadron does things. Punch it!" She thumbed the drive activator, pushing the Mk.VIII's engines to maximum as they moved to intercept the enemy fighters.

"Hey Grace! Looks like the explorers _discovered_ a bit more than they bargained for!" one of her pilots quipped from his spot in formation.

She rolled her eyes at the pilot's timing; they were just entering weapon's range of the Cylon formation, "Affirmative Shocker. Just keep your head in the game." Suddenly, a blinding flash lit up the battlefield, causing her to avert her eyes. When she looked back, Concordia was a just a rapidly expanding debris cloud, the entire complex utterly destroyed. _Ten thousand people...gone._ The Squadron comm chatter had disappeared.

She switched to address all twelve pilots, a hard edge to ther tone, "All Vipers: Weapons free. Comitting." Her Viper shot into the enemy formation, her KEW cannons stitching a dozen holes in the lead Raider as the rest of the squadron broke formation. The lead Raider blew apart and her wing mate soon racked up a kill to his own credit.

Coming about for another pass, she spied the last of _Journeyman_'s fighters, a strangely organic-looking craft, being dogged by four Raiders, "Stryker, Grace. I don't like the odds over there. Lets give him a hand."

"I'm your wing, Boss."

"The first one's mine. Watch my back!"

"Always a pleasure Grace," he responede smoothly.

Were she not flying into combat, she may have blushed at that statement, but had no time as two Raiders broke off to engage them, cannon's spewing blue-traced ammunition. The Vipers answered with red bursts of their own, the opposing fighters jinking and juking to avoid each other's fire while continuing to close the distance.

Then they were on each other and Taylor threw her Viper into a power dive before inverting to throw a hail of fire back at the Raider that had slipped onto her tail. She quickly rolled out to avoid the Raider's return fire. Reflexes enhanced by adrenaline, she came out of the roll and flipped the fighter once more to send a brief burst back at the Raider, which avoided her barrage. Unwittingly, however, it exposed its ventral fuselage, into which she sent and even shorter burst, ending the duel.

Her feeling of elation were cut short by an anguished cry over the wireless, "Crypter, crypter! This is Stryker. I've lost two engines, need assist…" He trailed off, "Oh my Gods! Frak! Eject-" The line dissolved in a wash of static.

No ejector seat on Dradis. Taylor felt tears sting her eyes; he had been her wing mate for three years. _But now_, she realized, _"Isn't the time for grief…This is a time for vengeance._

**Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

Saul Osso flipped his hand light on as the ship's lights failed, still making his way through the silent corridors to his Duty Station. Only minutes later, he was surprised to hear the distinct sound of projectile weapon's fire and the whine of blasters. He drew his own BlasTech before manually opening the next door. Immediately, his light beam fell upon a figure and he snapped up his pistol, his finger already on the trigger.

"Hey, Hey, Hey!" a familiar voice said quickly. "Don't shoot! Its me!"

"Korth?"

"Yeah, its me!" the voice called back, clearly relieved. "You headed to our station?"

Saul nodded, "Where's your blaster?" Only when it had cleared its holster did they proceed. With each compartment they went through, the sound of weapon's fire grew louder.

Korth tapped his shoulder, "We should probably go around, don't you think?"

Saul agreed, not wanting to walk into a firefight. He spotted another door on his left, "This way."

He accessed the door and was greeted by a hulking figure, cloaked in shadow save for an eerie, roving, red light in its visor. "Sithspit!' he cried as he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor.

Korth snapped off four panicked shots at the monstrosity. "It's a battle droid!" was all he said before a burst of projectile rounds tore into his chest.

From his sprawled position on the floor, Saul fired wildly at the thing's profile: His first two shots went wide, but as the droid turned towards him, he put two rounds into its chest and a third into its head in rapid succession. The machine crumpled to the ground, no longer functional, and Saul watched its red eye die.

He pulled himself up and walked to where Korth lay and knelt down to check the man's pulse. He needn't have bothered; four rounds had shredded his chest. He was gone.

Saul took an extra moment to close his eyes. Too late, he realized that he had let his guard drop when he heard the soft whirring and clanking of servomotors. He spun around to face the noise. Another battle droid stood there, its weapon arm trained upon him. He merely closed his eyes and waited for the killing shot.

His mind registered a burst of gunfire, but he felt no pain, only a rush of heat. He opened his eyes: The battle droid was a smoldering hunk of half-melted metal on the ground, its merciless red eye dark.

He looked behind him to see eight black-clad figures running toward him. The lead figure swept his weapon back and forth, the light on its end coming to rest on Saul, "Clear!" The man looked back to him, hefting his rifle, "You alright, son?"

Saul nodded weakly.

"Then on your feet! We've got to keep movin'. It sounds like there's a pair of Centurions just down the corridor."

Saul finally found his voice, "I…I'm just a hyperdrive tech. I'm not a soldier!"

"Well, today you're a Marine. Grab your gun and let's go!" he reached down a gauntleted hand.

Shaw took it and was hauled to his feet. The Marine clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Good man!" He turned to the other Marines clustered around them, "Johnston, take point."

The group started forward, Saul falling in second-last in the line. He flexed his shoulder, "Ow…!"

The column continued its advance, heedless of the encroaching darkness that flooded in all around them.

_Author's Note__: That's chapter six. This is my first time writing combat, so I hope you like it. There is still at least one more chapter of this battle coming._

_I'm sorry to say that in two or three more chapters, we will be reaching the end of Part I, but Part II is already well on the way. It should be longer both in chapter length and the number of chapters, as I won't be taking things almost word-for-word from a previously written story. As I said before, Part I started as sixty written pages and I just edited it a bit before posting. In Part II we will be reaching the main part of the tale that I have been envisioning for some time, so Part I is really introductory._

_In any case, I really am sorry about the chapter lengths, but I hope they'll get better in Part II. Let me know how I'm doing so far! Thanks for reading everyone!_

_-The CAG_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Seven**

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124; CIC**

"Commander Stratis!" came Commander Talc's desperate cry from the _Herod_. "You gotta give us a hand over here! Most of our defenses are down and we have two Baseships closing in on us! We can't hold them!"

Ben Stratis ducked as a terminal exploded in a shower of sparks nearby, "I'm sorry, Commander, but we've got problems of our own over here! Recommend we recall the Vipers and withdraw!"

There was a brief pause before the senior officer's response came, "I think you're right, Commander. Prepare to…" He never finished as the line cut off.

"Commander? Commander Talc?" No response.

"Sir," an officer reported shrilly. "The _Herod_ is gone!"

"Damn!" Ben slammed down the phone. He raked a hand through his hair, "That's it…Spread the word: I'm taking command. Order all Vipers to prepare for emergency combat landings on any Colonial vessel."

"Commander, we've got at least a hundred pilots EV and Sparta squadron is cut off from us," his XO reminded him. "Orders?"

"Notify the SAR birds they got eight minutes before we jump to Rendezvous Alpha. As for _Journeyman_ and Sparta, there's nothing we can do." It was a grim but factual reality. The phone signaled for his attention and he swiftly brought it to his ear:

"Stratis."

"This is Commander Spragg. We're withdrawing, Ben?"

"That's right. 'Round eight minutes to Rendezvous Alpha. We can't stand toe-to-toe with those Baseships."

The Commander didn't contest his decision, "Affirmative. See you on the other side."

Ben hung up the phone and noted with satisfaction that the _Tryst_ was falling back and maneuvering to form a right-angle with the _Spartan_. Soon, their remaining batteries were interlocking their fire to form a more concerted defensive screen while the long-ranged batteries focused their fire on the lead Baseship. The crippled vessel soon fell back behind the four remaining Baseships in the strike force which, in turn, continued to pound the two surviving Battlestars.

"One minute to jump, sir!"

"Thank you, Specialist. Jamie, order immediate combat landings on any Colonial ship," he instructed.

"Yes, sir." She swiveled in her chair to transmit the recall, "All Vipers, _Spartan_. Make immediate combat landings aboard any friendly vessel. FTL jump in one minute." Immediately, she began calling out the Vipers as they touched down on the deck until, with fifteen seconds left on the clock, she informed them that all squadrons were aboard, save Sparta.

Ben slammed his fist on the console in frustration, "We can't wait any longer!" He snatched up the PA, "Retract the pods! Make ready to jump!" He passed the mike to the XO, "Give us a count."

"Five…Four…Three…T…" She was interrupted by a piercing shout:

"Radiological alarm!"

The ship lurched violently and the CIC fell into chaos: Consoles exploded, ceiling conduits showered sparks and personnel were knocked from their stations to the deck.

From his sprawled position on the floor, Ben called for the jump, but received only a distant-sounding reply: "Jump drive inoperative!"

Ben's heart sunk; they were stuck here. He shouted above the clamor, "Call Spragg and tell him to get the hell outta here! There's nothing he can do!" Seconds later, the _Tryst_ jumped away and _Spartan _was left to stand alone against the tide.

Benjamin Stratis pulled himself to his feet calmly walked to the central console, "Open fire all batteries and launch all fighters: We'll go down fighting. Instruct all non-essential personnel to evacuate and take the Raptors and shuttles to the Rendezvous Point." He looked around at the grimy, sweat-streaked faces of his CIC staff, "Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been an honor."

_**Journeyman**_** Fighter Screen**

Sparta squadron had gathered seven other fighters from differant units and had incorporated them into the defense screen, which had now fallen back around the inactive hulk of the frigate. Despite the reinforcements, the squadron had lost eight Mk.VIIIs during the fighting so that now only nine remained in the fight. Sadder yet was the fact that only Jacen and three other EV pilots were still alive.

While the main focus was on the surviving Battlestars, the Cylons were constantly sending two-squadron waves at the defenders and it was clearly only a matter of time until they were overrun.

"Alright people, here they come again," Grace's weary voice filtered in over Tahiri's comm. "Break into wing pairs and engage. Remember to conserve your ammunition."

As the Raiders swooped in, they were met by only a token volley of return-fire, as many of the Vipers were nearly out of ammo. Tahiri, careful to conserve her own fighter's energy, dropped in almost on top of the Raider before firing and reducing it to space dust.

The Force gave her little warning before a fighter dropped in on her tail: Not only was she exhausted but she couldn't feel the kriffing things in the Force! She rolled out and was grateful when a Viper sent a short burst into the Raider as it strayed into his crosshairs. "Better watch your back, Veila!" the pilot commed as he veered off to drop onto another Raider's tail.

In return she fired her last proton torpedo into a Raider that had dropped onto _his_ tail, its debris showering her shields as it detonated; "You do the same, flyboy!"

A sound that could have been a chagrined grumble or merely comm static was her only reply.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the last two Battlestars jump away, leaving the ship she knew instinctively to be the _Spartan_ to stand alone. Nearby, a Viper blew apart, adding yet another name to the mounting casualty list. The odds were getting worse and worse.

**GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

"Fall back, fall back!" yelled Sergeant Kelly, firing his assault rifle into the advancing Centurions.

Saul Osso fired his own rifle, taken from a fallen Marine, as his Marine combat-partner fell back to the secondary defensive position that protected the ship's main computer databanks. Just a hundred yards down the corridor, technicians were working feverishly to eradicate the virus and to restore power to the ship, using time bought with the blood of the defenders.

At a hand signal, he fell back while Hansen covered him. He fired slow, carefully-aimed shots in order to conserve his dwindling ammunition and managed to fell a Centurion. In turn, a crewer fell dead acrossed the corridor, his upper chest and neck shredded.

At this point, such a sight didn't even faze him: The Black Flag had been raised over the battlefield. There would be no quarter given to either side.

"Hansen!" he yelled to the Marine beside him. "How close are they?" He grunted as fired his rifle.

Hansen's aim never faltered. "We need to buy 'em ten minutes before power is restored and internal defenses come on-line."

Another defender, the Colonial liaison to the ship and the acting-CO, fell screaming to the deck where he thrashed about in pain until the medic arrived and gave him a painkiller shot before treating his wounds. Saul reached over and grabbed the man's ammo, "Can we hold out that long?" He put down another "toaster" only to see another take its place.

"We don't have a choice," Hansen replied. "We hold the line or we lose the ship. They take the core and they'll vent all our atmosphere into space. End of game." His ammo counter read empty, "Osso, you got a clip?"

"Last one," he said, passing it to him.

The Marine slammed the clip home, "Then we make every shot count." Their concentrated fire brought down another Centurion and an HRD model the Marines called a "Four."

In morbid curiosity, Saul asked slowly, "Hansen…what happens when we run out of ammo?"

The Marine answered without falter, "Then we meet them: Metal on flesh." He spared a glance over, "We make our Last Stand."

Saul grimly continued firing, taking even more care in his aim, "Lets not let it get that far."

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124; CIC**

The ship was rocked by another nuclear detonation as the ship's skeleton crew valiantly tried to maintain the remaining defenses: Eighty percent of the batteries were down and less than a third of the Viper force was still flying. It was a testament to the ship and her crew that she had lasted this long under the Cylon's combined bombardment.

Through it all, the Commander and his XO had rushed about the chaotic CIC, desperately attempting to maintain the defenses until the evacuation was complete.

As the number of escape ships dwindled, Ben drew his old friend aside, "Em, I want you to get to the last Raptor and get out of here. The _Spartan _won't last much longer…There's nothing more you can do here."

She gave him a measured look, "I'll stay at my post."

"Emily, don't make me give you an order."

This time she rounded on him with a flare of indignation and anger, "I am NOT leaving my friends, my ship, my crew, or my post! Understand? You can Court Martial me later!"

Ben was silent a moment before he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thank you for always being there," he said quietly. She grinned briefly before turning away. However, he was not finished, "but this is a path you can't take with me. Farewell."

She turned back to him in confusion as his hand, previously resting docilely on her shoulder, traveled swiftly to her neck's pressure points. A brief squeeze rendered her unconscious and he caught her before she toppled to the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I couldn't go to my end knowing I was dragging you down with me." He didn't like having to do it, but he felt it had needed to be done.

Throughout he had ignored the chaos around him. He looked around and his eyes fell on an aide and Marine standing loyally at hand, "Get her down to that Raptor and get out of here. You are dismissed from your duties."

After a second, both simultaneously snapped to attention and saluted him. Stratis drew himself up and returned the salute. "Now go," he commanded and the two men complied, whisking the Colonel out of CIC.

Stratis watched the last Dradis monitor until their Raptor was gone. His ship was near its end and he knew it. He turned to his remaining crew in the ruined control center, "That's it: Abandon ship. Every man for himself. Pass the word, then do what it takes to survive. Good luck." He gave them one final salute which every man returned before hurrying from the room.

Ben went about his final duties: Allocating targets for the last cannons and launching the last of the nukes so they wouldn't fall into enemy hands. This completed, he walked slowly, like a man entranced, to the central Dradis console, oblivious to the explosions that echoed through the shattered CIC. He looked about the room that he had spent the last three years commanding from before closing his eyes and awaiting the end.

With no means of escape, he decided to follow the old and hallowed tradition: The captain goes down with his ship.

_Author's Note:__ Pretty grim-looking cliff there!_

_Well, as you may have guessed, I'm back! I hope everybody liked this one. One or two more chapters to go! As always, reviews and comments are always welcome (The more the better)! Thanks for reading!_

_-The CAG_


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars.**

**Chapter Eight**

**CFS **_**Spartan**_**, BSS-124; CIC**

Benjamin Stratis stood in the center of his destroyed CIC, composed and awaiting the end. He knew his ship couldn't take much more of this pounding, the detonation of enemy ordinance echoing loudly through the near-deserted ship. Every impact seemed louder than the last, building to a near-deafening crescendo.

Then, it stopped; the ship fell silent, save for the crackling of flames and the hiss of escaping oxygen. Ben opened his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief, as the wireless came to life. A calm voice crackled over the remaining speakers, "This is Admiral Lee Adama to the Battlestar _Spartan_. Please respond."

Ben looked about the comm station and finally located the headset among the wreckage. "This is _Spartan_ Actual. It's good to hear your voice, sir."

"Likewise, Commander. The Cylons have jumped away. We're beginning SAR operations now; what's you're location?"

"CIC, or what's left of it," he said bitterly.

"Affirmative. They'll be there shortly. Sit tight."

"I can't do much else, sir," he responded tiredly.

"Adama, out."

The connection terminated and Stratis tore off the headset and hurled accrossed the room, relieving a bit of the frustration and anger he felt: The once-proud Battlestar lay in ruins. In his heart, Ben knew she would never see action again, nor would many of her crew. This dark thought was compounded as his eyes fell upon Lieutenant Norton, sprawled dead at his post.

Ben jerkily walked over and knelt by the man's side, taking a moment to close his un-seeing eyes. His composure failed him now, bitter tears escaping him. _How did this happen!_ he silently raged. _All of our planning and preparation and still they manage to catch us unawares. Now God-knows how many are dead! How did this happen!_

Though deep-down he understood this was merely the fortunes of war, he still demanded an answer to his questions as his tumultuous emotions dictated his every thought.

So emotionally consumed was he that he didn't notice the falling beam until it caused his world to go mercifully dark.

**GFFA Frigate **_**Journeyman**_

Ensign Saul Osso and Private Kyle Hansen's combined fire burned down the final Centurion aboard ship. Just in the knick-of-time, power had been restored, bringing internal defenses on-line. The crew and Marines had seized the opportunity and counterattacked. After two hours of brutal, close-quarters, fighting the final Centurion's red eye had been extinguished. As Colonial reinforcements arrived, the Cylons had apparently decided to cut their losses and had abandoned the boarders as they jumped out-system, leaving great swaths of chaos and destruction in their wake.

Saul mustered enough defiance to deliver a kick to the crumpled Centurion at his feet before sinking weakly to the ground, contemplating his survival. The ship had taken tremendous losses, having well over a hundred crew killed or wounded. Similarly, of the twenty-nine Colonials on-board, only six were still on their feet.

A glance out the porthole saw the last three Colonial fighters streaking back to their Battle Group while only one of _Journeyman_'s complement was able to land under its own power, the other three survivors having to be tractor-beamed into the bay.

He pulled himself onto unsteady feet as a stretcher borne by two Marines neared. The litter carried Sergeant Kelly, who had received wounds to his leg and chest; he was being carried to sickbay to become the first Colonial to be dunked in Bacta.

He signaled the litter to stop and weakly reached out his hand to Osso, which Saul accepted. "You're a good man, Osso. I'm glad you made it, son."

"You too, sir."

The sergeant gave a throaty chuckle which quickly became a wheezing cough, "In a manner of speaking." He turned away and waved his hand loosely, "Alright, boys: Let's go."

The litter continued on and Saul shook hands with Hansen before going the opposite direction: The crew was mustering in the galley and he wondered how many of his friends were as lucky as him.

**CFS **_**Maximus**_**, BSM-82: Admiral Lee Adama's Flagship**

Taylor Grey guided her battered Mk.VIII in for a landing aboard the _Maximus_, the other two Vipers in her flight following suit. It was clear the _Spartan _was too badly damaged to recover her remaining birds.

With professional efficiency, the _Maximus_ deck crew quickley had her out of her cockpit for the first time in nearly five hours and registered their amazement that the pilots had managed to _fly_ their battered and fuel-less fighters, much less land them.

Immediately after stripping out of her flight suit and donning the new cloths she had been provided, one of the _Maximus_'s pilots approached and informed her that she was to report to Ready Room Three. She was not offered a guide, but she figured she could find the place; most Battlestars shared the same basic layout. The only difference was the fact that the _Maximus _was far larger than the _Spartan_, being a _Monarch_-Class Fleet Battlestar rather than a _Terra_.

A _Monarch_ was the largest Battlestar in existence, mounting a complement of fifteen full Viper squadrons. So massive and expensive were these ships, that there were only five in service, though one was slated for completion this month in the ship yards orbiting Earth. None of these vessels were commanded by anything less than a Flag-rank Fleet commander, the _Maximus_ being the flagship of the Second Fleet.

Taylor encountered little difficulty in locating the room she was looking for. Waiting for her inside the empty room was Major Alexander Williams, the ship's CAG, who waved away her salute and immediately stepped forward to firmly shake her hand, "Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Thank you, sir."

"The rest of your pilots will be joining us in just a few minutes for your debriefing, but I wanted to meet you first in order to answer any immediate questions you might have."

After seeing the destruction around them, she had only one question; "How bad was it?"

Williams was silent for a long, painful moment, and Taylor prepared herself for the worst. "Commander Spragg joined the Second fifteen minutes ago. Aboard the _Tryst_ were fourteen _Spartan_ Vipers and their pilots, along with some two hundred and fifty crewman and auxiliary pilots who escaped during the evacuation. Aboard we have the remaining seven Vipers besides your own flight along with one hundred-eighty or so rescued from the vacuum. Rescue ops aboard you're ship are nearly complete and four hundred have been recovered. All told, we have rescued just under a thousand, including the Commander and XO."

The weight of the news slammed into her with the force of a charging bull elephant: _Spartan_ and her crew had been decimated. "Stratis and Clark are alive?" she asked, feeling at least a bit of relief at this news.

Williams sipped his coffee, "Yeah. Heard that Stratis literally gave the XO no choice but to evacuate and the Commander himself is even luckier. The SAR teams dug him out from the rubble of CIC. Apparently he suffered extensive injuries from being hit by a falling beam, but they've got him in surgery now; they think he'll make it."

She nodded before leaning back and letting her eyes slip closed. She had to fight to get them back open again, finally realizing how tired she truly was. "Sorry…been in the cockpit to long," she apologized.

Williams waved it away, understanding, as the other pilots filed in, "Don't worry about it: I promise this won't take too long. Go and be with your men."

She nodded her thanks before joining the small cluster of pilots that had survived. The only saving-grace of that day was that the debriefing was mercifully short, and she wasn't even sure she managed to stay awake through _that_.

**CFS **_**Maximus**_**, BSM-82; Sickbay**

Ben blinked his eyes against the light as he regained consciousness. At first he was confused by his surroundings, the last thing that he remembered being his bombed-out CIC. He remembered Admiral Adama's call and realized that he must have been evac'ed and, as his eyes adjusted to the glare, he realized he was in a hospital cot.

No sooner had he become aware when a medtech entered and checked his vitals before announcing that he had a visitor. "Do you feel up to it?"

"I'm alright; send 'em in," he grunted, attempting to regain his disused voice. The nurse nodded and left the room. The door opened again moments later and, more out of habit than intent, Ben attempted to pull himself up.

"At ease, Commander; don't strain yourself, 'cause the Doc'll have my ass if you do," Lee Adama ordered gently.

"Yes, sir," he replied, sinking back down, his body already strained by the exertion.

"You made a hell of a stand out there today."

"Wasn't by choice, sir. They hit us with a nuke…disabled our jump drive." He forced himself to swallow. _God, I can't even talk in complete sentences!_

If the Admiral noticed his difficulty, he didn't comment upon it. Instead, his face assumed a far-away look. "That happened to me once…It was before we found Earth and I reported to the _Pegasus_ as a Major. That was during Garner's stint in command. Anyway, we made an ill-advised jump to rescue a pair of missing Raptors. It was an ambush- the Cylons were waiting for us with three Baseships. Their first nuke took out our FTL. It cost Garner his life to get us outta there." There was a pause as his eyes came back into focus, " I continued to command _Pegasus_ until we lost her over New Caprica. I still carry Garner's watch to this day," he tapped his wrist to prove his statement.

Ben snorted bitterly, "We weren't so lucky. We couldn't get the FTL back on-line."

"The salvage crews report the FTL was damaged beyond repair: You couldn't have jumped away."

Stratis's gaze fell to his lap. "How bad was it?" he asked quietly.

The Admiral took a preparatory breath before speaking, and Ben knew before he spoke. "We've recovered one thousand twenty-three survivors."

Ben's eyes snapped back up, "That's it!? The _Spartan_ was running with a full complement of thirty-two hundred!"

"The ship was a credit to her builders: She took one hell of a pounding and returned more than her fair-share in kind. But…by the time we got there, she was little more than a burned-out hulk, suffering from secondary explosions and decompressions. I swear to you, Commander: Everything that could be done was done"

Ben nodded dejectedly, eyes haunted, "I see."

Adama gave him and understanding look, "Don't blame yourself: You did everything you could."

"Tell that to my crew!" Ben snapped, but instantly regretted his words. "I'm sorry, sir"

The Admiral stood, "Get some rest. You should be on your feet again in a few days." After a brief nod, the door closed behind him.

Stratis wearily settled back to sleep but was roused at a commotion in the ward, raised voices. Strangely wary, he looked around and found his service pistol holstered on his bedside table. He drew it, checked the clip, and flipped off the safety. Unable to rise, he trained the gun on the door.

The door slammed open, but Ben held his fire and safed the weapon. The figure silhouetted in the door was familiar. "Em…?" he ventured.

The door slammed shut again and Ben knew she was angry even before she stormed up to the bed… and solidly slapped him. "That's for knocking me out!" she proclaimed. Again. "And that's for having me dragged off and making me abandon my post!" Once more for good measure, "How could you do that to me, damn it?" She was glaring and breathing heavily, but seemed to have spent the worst of her rage.

His head still in a tizzy from the blows, he took a moment before speaking, "I guess I deserved that."

"Frakkn' right you did!" she snapped angrily.

"You done yet?" he asked calmly.

She sat on the edge of the bed, "For now."

"Good. Let me explain: I truly am sorry to have resorted to such desperate measures back there, but I felt I had to do it. I believed I was going to die and I didn't want you, my best friend, die too."

"You didn't have the right to make that choice; as your friend, I was willing to stay."

"I know, and I don't know what I did to earn that friendship, but all it would have meant was one more name on the casualty lists. Try to put yourself in my place: Would you have wanted that?"

She almost seemed to deflate, "No, I suppose not."

"Can you forgive me?" he pleaded.

"Yes," she said before fixing him with a menacing look, "But you _ever_ do that again and you won't find me so forgiving."

"I promise," he said solemnly before continuing lightly. "Next time you _want _to die, I swear I'll let you."

Emily chuckled, visibly relaxing. When the mirth subsided, she continued on a more serious tact: "Do you know how many we lost?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Do you know that Davids is dead?"

"What?" he asked incredulously, sitting up further. This the Admiral hadn't told him, "How? When?"

"He took four rounds to the chest: The Outsiders did everything they could, but they couldn't save him," she informed him sadly.

Both fell silent before Ben spoke up to change the course of the conversation. "You look like hell, Em"

She scoffed sarcastically, "This from the man lying in a hospital bed, mangled and bandaged, after a full four hours in surgery."

"Then I should know what it looks like, shouldn't I?" he shot back. "Seriously, though: Hit the showers and get some rack time. You've earned it."

She stood and flipped him a mock-salute, "Yes, sir." The Colonel turned and left the room.

And, after a time, Ben fell into a restless sleep.

_Author's Note:__ Well that's that, everyone: Chapter Eight. I don't know about you guys, but I actually feel pretty good about this chapter._

_Sorry for the late-night post(10:30pm, sheesh!) but I wanted to get this one out there. Let me know what you all think and please review! Some days I practically live on those things! This chapter kind-of exhibits the exhaustion of the participants after a battle and I thought it turned out quite nicely. _

_So, we saw Lee Adama in this chapter. Yes, I know he left the military to become President, but I wrote this before that happened and didn't want to change it, liking it my way better. We also saw a referance to The Captain's Hand, one of my favorite episodes. _

_As always, thanks for reading!_

_-The CAG_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** or Star Wars**

**Chapter Nine**

**CFS **_**Maximus**_**, BSM-82; Admiral's Quarters**

Jacen Solo stifled a yawn as he struggled to pay attention and follow to the negotiations between Captain Shaw and Colonial Admiral Adama. The two men were attempting to hammer out a temporary arrangement that would benefit both parties; they had been in conference for six hours now but were finally nearing a conclusion.

In light of the current state of war in Colonial Space, the _Journeyman_ would not be continuing on, but would be returning home with a Colonial Envoy in tow. "We'll send a Flag Officer with a supporting diplomatic staff aboard one of our ships back with you, with full power to negotiate on our behalf," Adama informed Shaw. "He'll have full authority to forge treaties, trade agreements, and military pacts with your people."

Shaw nodded, but posed a question, "Why not just send your people back with us aboard my ship? Wouldn't that just make things simpler?"

The Admiral shook his head adamantly, "Logistically maybe, but practically it won't do: Not only does the ship provide mobility and support, but a certain amount of prestige as well."

Shaw conceded the point, "Very well. Do you have an officer in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I doubt anyone will dispute the choice, but we'll need two weeks to appropriately prepare for the mission."

"That can be arranged," Shaw agreed. "We'll need some time to refit and re-supply anyway."

"I'll see to it you have everything you need," Adama promised.

"Thank you, Admiral." He offered his hand, "I believe we are in accord."

The Admiral shook the proffered hand, "We are, sir."

"Then we'll return to our ship." He turned to the silent Jedi, who rose as one before flanking the Captain as they left the room, devoutly thankful that the proceeding were over as their guide led them to the Hanger Deck.

**Two Weeks Later**

The Admiral looked up from behind his desk as Ben stepped through the hatch and set the papers he was shuffling through down, "Thank you for coming, Commander. Please take a seat."

Stratis sat down in the indicated chair, "Thank you, sir."

"Now, I understand you're only a few days out of sickbay, but you've tentatively been cleared for duty."

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. I have your next assignment for you."

Ben was a bit confused, "An assignment? So soon, sir?"

Lee nodded, "Under regular circumstances we would give you a month R&R to recuperate, but we can't spare an officer off the line right now."

"I understand, sir. I'm ready to get back in the fight."

Adama grimaced, "That's not exactly what I had in mind. I want you to be our envoy to the Outsiders' GFFA."

He was silent before speaking. "Sir, with all due respect, I think I should be here fighting the Cylon with the rest of the Fleet. Besides, I don't have any background in diplomacy."

"You are our _only_ officer that has dealt with these people and I assure you that you will have a full diplomatic team at your disposal. This posting shouldn't be too strenuous, so you should be able to use this mission as recuperation time." He paused for a moment, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how important this mission is."

Ben finally consented defeat. "Very well, sir: I accept the assignment, but I wonder if I might make a request?"

Adama gave a nod, "Go ahead."

"I would like my old crew for this mission, sir."

The Admiral had no reservations, "You'll have them, Ben." Adama handed him his mission orders, "These are your-eyes-only, Commander."

"I understand, Admiral," he replied as he broke the seal and began to read.

"The government has granted you full authority to represent the Colonial Federation and make any decisions on our behalf. They have detached a large portion of the Fifth Fleet in support of your mission that will establish a forward base while you continue on with your assignment."

Ben nodded absently as he continued reading through the orders until his eyes came to rest on his new ship. "Admiral," he said slowly. "This says I've been assigned the Battlestar _Ranger_…that's a _Monarch_, isn't it?" he asked incredulously.

"It is," Adama opened his desk drawer and retrieved a small, black, box. "And these, they say, come with the ship." He flipped open the lid to reveal a pair of rank insignias, "Congratulations, Vice-Admiral: You've earned these."

Ben slowly shook the Admiral's hand, not quite believing it, "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Admiral. Now pack your things; your Raptor leaves in an hour."

**Raptor Eight. En Route to CFS **_**Ranger**_**, BSR-32**

The enormous Battlestar loomed out the front viewport as Ben made the transit over from the _Maximus._ The _Ranger_ was the sixth and last _Monarch_ in the Fleet and had only just arrived from the shipyards orbiting Earth. Its massively-armored hull was dotted with countless gun batteries and missile tubes. This mission would be its maiden voyage.

Nevertheless, the entire ship's complement was drawn from experienced Battlestar crews, including the _Spartan_. The Raptor touched down on the elevator and began to lower while Ben prepared to disembark and take command.

**CFS **_**Ranger**_**, BSR-32; Hanger Deck**

There was a hiss as the hatch unsealed and swung open. Stratis found himself standing in a monstrous hanger bay. Before him, at least five hundred of the crew were drawn up in ranks. The assembly snapped to attention and saluted upon command from Colonel Reilly, the ships acting CO.

"At ease!" his voice echoed through the cavernous bay. "Colonel Reilly, permission to come aboard?"

"Granted, sir. Welcome aboard, Admiral," the man replied, his accent a thick, Irish brogue.

Ben shook the man's hand before stepping passed to briefly address the crew. "Ladies and Gentlemen: It is an honor to take command of such a fine ship and crew. I will do my utmost to add luster to her name. You all know our mission and we make history merely by partaking in it. Dismissed!"

The crew gave a cheer before breaking ranks and returning to their work. Stratis returned a couple of greeting from his old crew before turning once more to Reilly, "Well, Colonel?"

"CIC is this way, Admiral. Commander Clark has the Con."

"_Commander_ Clark?" .

"Yes, sir. Didn't you know? She was promoted after _Spartan_'s stand, just like you."

"I see. Well, lead the way, Colonel."

They left the hanger deck and wound through the seemingly endless corridors to CIC. The hatch swung open and once more he was greeted by the call, "Admiral on deck." After returning this second round of salutes he made his way down to the Dradis console.

He extended his hand to Emily, "So…Commander, huh? Who'd a thought." He shook his head, "Wonders never cease." She grinned and took his hand. "But seriously, though: Congratulations. You deserve it."

"Thanks. What about you, though? An Admiral now?" She assumed an annoyed persona, "That's all I need. I still have to take orders from you. Last time, _you_ nearly got me court martialed!"

Ben raised his hands in defeat, "Alright! Alright! You win." He turned to Reilly, "Are we ready to jump?"

Yes, sir. Coordinates have come in and all boards are in the green."

"Very well." Ben walked over to the wireless station and was pleased to find that Jamie Prince still held the post, "Contact _Journeyman_ and inform them we are T-minus thirty seconds to jump."

Reilly picked up the PA mic, "All hands, prepare for FTL jump in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one. Jumping." He turned to Stratis, who gave that historic and fateful order:

"Jump."

**End of Part I: First Contact**

_**This next part is important for ALL readers, regestered or not!**_

_Author's Note__: Well, that's it everyone! I hope this final chapter was written to your satisfaction. Part One is finished, but never fear-I have other things in the works! Let me bring you up to speed up on all that. _

_I have Part Two generally plotted out and you should see it in a few week's time. But, before that happens, a couple of other things will be appearing. One of these will be a rather lengthy Star Wars One-shot which I've spent a lot of time on, so I hope you'll all enjoy that. The second item, appearing sometime after the One-shot, will be a questionnaire about Part Two. This will consist of several questions I'd like answers to or opinions of. I will be __**ALLOWING**__ anonymous reviews to get everyone's input, so I would appreciate all of your responses. Keep an eye on my profile for information on that._

_Part Two will be longer in virtually every sense compared to Part One and should stretch out over a longer time-period. I'll keep you posted as I figure out more._

_Lastly here, I really want to thank all my wonderful reviewers! I am very critical of what I write and never know if it is good or not. I even had my doubts if my story would be received well. I am very relieved to see that this is simply not the case. Your reviews really kept me optimistic, so I want to thank you all for that. I hope you all enjoy whatever else I write!_

_Thank you, everyone, for reading this story and I hope you stick around. If you have any questions, you can get a hold of me via my profile page._

_All the best,_

_-The CAG _


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